Strawberry & Cinnamon
by Undead Priestess Shashaiti
Summary: The year is 1995.  L is 16. He is working on a case in Boston known as the Boston Glass Killer Case.  Here, he will fall in love with his first girlfriend. Little does he know that this girl and this case will define who he is for the rest of his life...


**STRAWBERRY & CINNAMON**

**Summary:** _The year is 1995. L is 16. He is working on a case in Boston known as the Boston Glass Killer Case. Here, he will fall in love with his first girlfriend. Little does he know that this girl and this case will define who he is for the rest of his life…_

**Author's note:** I'm going to try to only do a note at the beginning for this story.

***A note to anyone reading this bit who is a fan of my Mummy fanfictions: I'm sorry that my fic updates are infrequent, but I have quite a bit going on right now; I'm trying my best. I have more information about what's going on in my profile.***

I just came back from a trip in Boston, and I'm trying to use real locations as much as possible in this story.

I should probably note that when this story begins, L is going to be drastically different than he usually is. As the summary says, eventually, by the time this story ends, he is going to change into his usual self (AKA how he is represented in the Death Note series).

I should warn those of you who are looking for it that this story is not going to have any Death Notes or Shinigamis. This is a story that focuses on L's past.

I really don't want to give away what happens here, hence why this will be my only note. I hope you enjoy this story! ^_^

**CHAPTER 1: PASTRY**

He had been 16 for a day.

For his birthday celebration, Watari had gotten him a Boston cream pie from the hotel bakery that invented them. He liked the flavor and authenticity of the cake.

That night, he trick-or-treated with a group of small kids. He was dressed as a lollypop, and he gained a large bag full of various candies over the course of the night. There were indeed wonderful advantages to having a birthday on Halloween, he believed.

That being said, by the next morning, he was craving sugar again. No matter how many sweet things he had, it was never enough.

He stood inside of Mike's Pastry Shop on the bright November morning. The small shop was already packed full of hungry customers, to the point that it was hard to move without bumping into someone.

He was wearing grey converse, purple jeans, and a very fluffy oversized white turtleneck sweater. His black hair was tied back in a short, sleek ponytail, and his skin still had a healthy glow from the tan he got a couple weeks earlier while solving a major drug-gang case in Colombia.

The server called him up to order. "Ichigo-" _No, I need to speak English; I've been speaking Japanese with Watari so much lately that I've forgotten people here don't understand it_, he told himself. He spoke in English then, his British accent coming through. "I would like a strawberry cupcake, please." She walked around the long plexiglas case until she found the item requested, and brought it to him. He thanked her, paid her, and dropped a few dollars into the tip jar.

Suddenly, a girl squeezed through the packed people and came up next to him, saying to the waitress, "I'd like a pistachio cannoli."

As the woman got her the treat requested, the boy's grey eyes were transfixed on the girl. She had two messy black pigtails with hot pink streaks, which extended to her bare shoulders. She wore a skintight black tank top to accentuate her slim waist and b-cup breasts, and lime green skinny jeans with a black belt decorated with silver studs. Her converse was black, and she wore neon yellow fishnet gloves against her pale skin. She appeared to be of Japanese descent, and her eyes were the color of mint leaves. Her black mascara was thin and natural looking, but her black lipstick stood out boldly.

She was… stunning, in a way that he had not understood before.

She paid the woman as she took her green nut-sprinkled cream filled funnel. She looked at the ogling boy and smiled. "Hi."

"…Hi." He responded, breathless and nervous.

"Nice pants."

"…Thank you."

"Come with me, let's find a table." She said, grabbing his available hand and walking through the crowd.

He was surprised. He had never met someone so outgoing towards him, let alone held a girl's hand before.

They found what seemed to be the last two-person table in the small shop, and took a seat.

"So… where are you from?" she asked.

"Well, it's kind of complicated… my parents were Japanese Britians, and I was born in England, but my parents died when I was 2, so they put me in an orphanage, and after some IQ tests I was transferred to the Whammy House in California..." _Wait, what am I thinking? Why did I tell her that?_ He worried.

But she didn't seem to know what the Whammy House was. "I'm Japanese, too. Though, my parents moved to here when mom was preggers with me. Do you speak Japanese?"

"Yes."

"Me, too." She responded in Japanese. From that point on, they carried on their conversation in that language.

He asked her, "What is it like knowing your biological parents?"

"Well.." she hesitated, then continued, "Mom is… kind of annoying, mostly because she's so traditional. She stays at home and cooks and cleans… I don't see how she stands it. She gets upset with how I dress sometimes. If it weren't for her, I'd have a belly button ring by now, but I don't… But I still love her and all. I have to worry about her sometimes, because of dad. He often goes out on long business trips, and then when he gets back home, he often drinks too much. He acts very idiotic when he's drunk. She doesn't want me to see him when he's in that state- she tells me to go to my room or leave the house for a bit, sometimes she'll give me cash to go to a hotel overnight; I guess he really gets snockered if she's that desperate to hide it… So, I don't know my dad too well, I guess. But the few times I see him, he's very nice to me. And then my older brother just moved out half year ago, I guess he's working part time in a pilgrim reenactment sort of town while he's trying to make it as an actor… How's the cupcake?"

"Delicious! I love sweet things." He replied, biting into the yellow cake and red strawberry filling, getting some thick pink frosting on his upper lip.

"Yeah, sweets are pretty good… though I usually prefer spicy things. Have you ever had Thai duck in hot curry sauce?"

"No… I'm not too much for savory. Though hot tamales are ok…"

She took a bite of her cannoli. "Thai food always has hot entrées and sweet desserts. Good stuff." She took another bite. "So, you said you live in California. What brings you to Boston?"

"To tell you the truth, I'm a detective working on the Boston Glass Killer Case." _Why didn't I just lie? The police didn't want me to mention that to any citizens…_

"Really?...How old are you again?"

"I turned 16 yesterday."

"Happy Birthday then. Although… I'm 17 and still in school. How does a 16 or 15 year old get a job as a detective?"

"Well, I don't mean to brag, but… it's for the same reason I was taken to the Whammy House. I'm sort of a genius…"

"What is the Whammy House? It sounds really familiar."

"It's a house for genius orphans. They're raised so they can do great things faster. They choose what they want to do. I've decided to be my caretaker Watari's successor in being a detective-"

"Watari? The super detective Watari?"

"Yes." _Telling a stranger all of this is a really bad idea! …But still… she seems different… _

"That's cool! But…can you prove this?"

He took out the badge that he was given by police and told to use when going somewhere to investigate.

"…This could be fake." She said.

_This may be a bit of a pain, but at least she's smart enough to not believe everything she hears_, he thought to himself.

He said, "Okay, then let me tell you some details of the case that you haven't heard on the news yet, as well as my profiling so far. That should prove it to you. …Umm… one second…" He got up and hunched over, squatting in the seat.

He could feel people's eyes staring at him, and he was hit with a pang of self-consciousness.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"I have to do this to think, or else my reasoning abilities fall by 40%..."

"Ok."

"… Well, this Killer obviously lives or works in Boston since the murders are isolated in this area. And the weapon used is always glass from the given victim's window, once he shatters it. I can assume that the killer is male, because for one all of the victims are female, and for two, his stabs go upward instead of downward, which is much more common in men. Also due to the stabbing patterns, I can assume he is relatively 6 feet tall. It is hard to decide what race he is though, since he has killed multiple nationalities of women. He always seems to kill in the same way- he starts with a stab to the stomach, then slashes at the throat, legs, and major arteries, and then continues to put lighter cuts on the victims' faces after they die. Judging from this, he has probably experienced some form of trauma with a woman who impacted his life very much, which is why he kills. He is either re-living his fulfilled fantasy of killing the woman, or – more likely- fantasizing about what he has not yet done. I can say this because we can find nothing connecting the women together and yet the killings continue as though he is not satisfied, and no person who associates with the victims has done it or seem to know who did it. I interrogated them all myself- they did not kill the women. Furthermore, this man is very smart, whoever he is. He does not rape the victims to prevent getting his DNA from sperm, he wears latex gloves on top of leather gloves to prevent us from getting DNA from blood or skin cells, he uses a murder weapon that cannot be registered to anyone or traced to any seller, he is either bald or wears some sort of headgear to prevent us from getting DNA from his hair, he steals a new pair of shoes from a different store near the victim's home for each murder so there is nothing on his shoes that can be traced to his career or home- he's a size 10 by the way- and then does not leave them behind so we cannot get DNA from his shoes, and he leaves no note so we cannot assess his handwriting and match it to anyone. This is a very hard case due to the sheer lack of evidence. But, I know his sex, height, shoe size, intelligence level, and that a significant female figure has traumatized him and he wants her dead but cannot directly kill her- at least, not now. Simply based off of this evidence, when I meet this person, I should be able to match up their personality and certain size dimensions from the killer. It's a long shot, but… it's what I have to do. If that means I somehow have to get around my introvertedness and get to know strangers to possibly find and arrest a murderer, I'll do what gets him off the streets."

Her jaw had dropped. "Woah…you really are a genius!...I'm impressed. …I'll be sure to bring him over if I find a man who seems to match your description!"

"Please don't; just avoid him. I wouldn't want you to get killed by a murderously insane genius." He requested.

She smiled at his concern for her.

"By the way… what is your name?" she asked.

"Lam Lawliet." This time, his shock became visible on his face as his eyes widened and he looked to the floor.

"What is it?" she asked.

"I'm not supposed to tell anyone my real name. Watari always taught us at the Whammy House that an alias could save your life… especially during an investigation. There's an alias I chose as a child that I'm always supposed to go by. Watari and you are the only people who know my real name… I just trust you for some reason, it feels so easy to tell you these things… but please, never call me by my real name."

"Okay. What is the 'set alias' I need to call you by?"

He hesitated. "It's… kind of embarrassing, but… I go by 'Lucky'."

"Lucky? ... Why?"

"Well… when my parents died, it was because of a car crash. I was in the car with them, and I was the only survivor. So… I felt lucky to be alive."

"Okay…Lucky." She smiled.

They finished their pastries soon after.

Before they left the table, she scrawled something on a piece of paper and handed it to him.

"That's my phone number. Call me anytime."

She kissed him on the cheek, leaving a black lip mark.

"I have to go, but I'll see you later, Lucky."

And with that, she left.

Blushing profusely, he stared after her leaving, and once she was out of sight from the shop windows, he got up and began to leave.

As he walked out into the windy street, he marveled at how foolish he had been in telling her all of that information. But… at the same time… he felt as though fortune had smiled at him for being able to meet her. She seemed as trustworthy as a best friend; it felt as though he had known her for a very long time…

And then he remembered the one vital thing they didn't talk about.

He forgot to ask for her name.


End file.
